Willows in The West
by ian postre
Summary: For fans of Kenneth Grahame and Wind in the Willows! Can be read as a standalone story. This picks up from William Horwood's appalling


Willows in the West  
  
by Ian Postre  
  
This story picks up where William Horwood left off in "Willows and Beyond" recounting the events in the lives of Messrs. Badger, Rat, Toad and Mole, their various sad endings, and the Water Rat, disappearing without water or trace in the desert of the East...  
  
  
  
dedicated to Mr Cyril Levy, a long-time friend of Messrs. Toad, Mole, Badger and Rat.  
  
Willows in the West  
  
by Ian Postre  
  
  
Many thought that the Old Rat's trek to the East had resulted in his death. They thought he had been arrested (or so the rumours said), that he had died in some dark dungeon in an Arabian city. Others said he had met a terrible end in the heat of the desert, so far, far away from his beloved River, both in time and in place. And a few said he had just laid down his old head and died in a not very salubrious guest house in the roughest part of Marrakesh.  
  
They couldn't have been more wrong.   
  
And how do I know this ? As I put pen to paper to tell this remarkable tale, I, Auberon Mole, can reveal that I heard what happened to our dear old friend from the whiskers of Ratty himself. It is an account I feel obliged to put down in writing in order to set the record straight, and now that I am sure that dear Rat and all his friends are safe and happy and where rumour and misinformation cannot harm them.  
  
Oh no ! The Water Rat did not die. Indeed, that explanation could not be further from the truth!  
  
* * * * *  
  
The heat of the sun burning overhead was becoming unbearable. The Rat had been walking for hours and he had lost track of time though he kept to his course with the help of a crumpled old map bought in Cairo for a few pounds and his trusted compass handed down to him by his father so many, many years ago.   
  
He leant heavily on his walking stick, which had accompanied him all the way from England, and he frequently stopped to mop his furry brow and to take a draught of water from his leather flask.  
"Oh no, indeed!" he said, half-aloud to himself, "Desert life is not for me- most definitely not for me."  
  
On more than one occasion as the rat trekked through the dunes and across the parched slopes, the Water Rat's mind had strayed back through the long years to his beloved Riverbank, to the willows which bowed their weeping heads across the running stream dancing with the sunlight which glistened like jewels upon the slowly moving tide. He remembered his lunch time picnics in his sturdy boat, drifting along upon the breeze waving to a passing rabbit or a friendly owl. He sighed as he saw in his minds-eye the hampers filled with sandwiches and cakes and bottles of dandelion wine and apples red as a sunset. And then he remembered his friends, old Mole and Badger and Toad - incorrigible Toad in his crimson breeches, his creased silk shirt and garish ties ! A tear came to the Old Rat's eye. "All gone, all gone now." And he continued on his weary way through the desert.   
He sighed again. "When did we become old?"  
  
* * * * *  
  
The pyramid was not marked on his map. The Rat frowned. "I know this is an old map, but I don't suppose it can be older than this!"  
  
Towering more than two hundred feet above him, the pyramid must have comprised more than three hundred steps of stone.  
  
As the Rat stared up into the dizzy heights of carved sandstone, he swayed and quickly realised that he was not as steady on his feet as he ought to have been. The searing heat had had its effect and the lack of cool air and fresh water were beginning too tell, as the Rat thought he saw the sun begin to spin about his little frame. He made to support himself with his stick, but it was no good, and the tired and thirsty old Rat, who should really have been lazing in a riverboat in the afternoon breeze of an English Spring, fell to the floor in an exhausted heap.  
  
* * * * *   
  
Drip. Drip. Drip. The Water Rat stirred. Drip. Drip. Drip. The Water Rat, sniffed the cool air. Drip. Drip. Drip. The Water Rat opened his eyes.  
  
Some liquid was being poured into his mouth. It was cool water. He spluttered a bit, but immediately felt better. It was not long before the rat was sitting up and viewing his surroundings. A pair of kind eyes stared into his and a few seconds passed before the Rat realised that these were the eyes of another rat and, not an Egyptian rat, but a westerner !  
"Who are you ?" asked the Rat, who sensed something familiar about this fellow.  
"I am Edward Rat your cousin."  
"Edward Rat ? But he is MY age ! You can't me much older than a nipper !"  
"Rest awhile and all will be explained" the strange fellow replied, and Ratty laid his head down onto a soft pillow and, believing he was dreaming, fell into a deep slumber.  
  
Yet when he awoke, nothing had changed. the same rat was beside his bed and he looked around to see he lay in a strange chamber. Why, he must be inside the pyramid he had stumbled across ! The writings on the wall were ancient, the statues clearly thousands of years old.  
  
"Welcome to the Pyramid of the Sun." said the rat. "I promise you, I am your cousin, Edward. Do you not recognise me, Ratty ?"  
"Well, yes" said Ratty, "there is something familiar about you, but you are too young ! Perhaps you are Edward's son ?"  
Edward laughed. "Come with me."  
And he led the Water Rat out of the chamber along a dark corridor and down a flight of steps which seemed to have no end. At least they came to a lighted chamber which was filled with other rats, these most definitely Egyptian and the sounds of running water. In the centre of the chamber was a fountain gushing cool with blue liquid.  
  
"Oh Ratty" said Edward. "It is so good to see you, a member of my family after such a long time. How did you come here ?"  
"I am old" replied the Rat, the river is not as it used to be. I had to leave. I had to get away. I felt drawn to the east. I wandered. And here I am."  
"Well, my dear cousin, we share much in common. I too wanted to travel, This much you know. I was never a chap to laze about on the River twiddling my paws. So I travelled the world, and finally settled after thirty years of moving about, in Egypt. Soon I was exploring again and I became lost during a sandstorm and somehow I found this place. I stumbled through tunnel after tunnel until I came to this chamber. I was so very, very thirsty, and I took a deep drink of the water you see before you here. Within an instant I felt restored, in fact, more restored than I had ever been. It was several hours before I realised that this water had made me young again."  
"Young again ? How can it be ? It can't be true !"  
"But it IS true, dear Ratty. Just one sip from this fountain of life and you can be young again."  
  
The Rat looked into the eyes of this fellow and knew it was his cousin. He thought of the life he had lead, he thought of his friends, of the adventures he had had. He lifted his creaking, old frame and walked towards the fountain. Just one sip and he could be young again.  
  
But young again for what ? He thought again of the riverbank, HIS riverbank, all gone now, all mud and ooze, his friends all gone. Perhaps it would be better to grow old and to die. And yet he had come adventuring. He had left his home in search of one final adventure. his curiosity, as with all rats, was immense, and he simply could not lay down and die without ever having tried this liquid ! Just one sip. One tiny sup ! Before he even knew what he was doing, the Water Rat had plunged his left paw into the water and put it to his lips. As the drops trickled down his throat he felt a sudden and wonderful surge of warmth and well-being.  
  
Edward walked over to a corner of the chamber as one of the Egyptian Rats, an albino, handed him a mirror. He held it up for his cousin to look into.  
  
The Rat couldn't believe his eyes. Grey whiskers had lengthened and turned to brown. Bony paws had filled out and were strong and powerful. And his eyes - eyes which had dimmed with age now burned bright and with a deep clarity, like newly fashioned rubies. The Water Rat was young again.  
  
"Now you are young again." said Edward. "Yet there is something else that you want Ratty ?"  
Ratty turned to his cousin and placed a soft paw on his shoulder. "How grand it would be, how simply grand to go back to England. Edward, my dear cousin, I want to go home."  
  
The Water Rat stayed with his cousin for a few more days in that strange pyramid in the desert and then, as the week came to an end, he said his farewells, and set off in the direction of Cairo, his pace faster, his stride longer and his breath surer than it had ever been. In his bag were his few worldly possessions including a small silver flask given to him by his cousin Edward containing a small quantity of the wonderful water in case it could ever be of use to him.  
  
* * * * *  
  
And so the not-so-old Water Rat came home. His return had not been without event. Arrested on arrival in Nicosia on suspicion of being a spy. Eluding capture as a stowaway on a Moroccan trawler which nearly sank during a terrible storm. And being chased by an angry baker in Rome for burning a whole oven-full of focaccia bread. Not to mention a nasty encounter with some weasel brigands on his later return to a hostelry in the cheaper part of Lyon.  
  
Yet home he was. And as he surveyed the scene which had led to his departure in the first place nearly two years before, the Rat wondered what it was which had brought him back: the Wild Wood a shadow of its former self, the Lathbury fields all covered in ugly modern housing and the River - the poor River, a trickle of mud, filled with rubbish and refuse of all kinds, clogged with sewage and no longer flowing, no longer quickening after spring rains or bulging after autumn downpours. The river - no longer His Beloved River. All gone now. All seeped away.  
  
Two years ago the Rat had left his home a tired, old creature, intent on a final journey of exploration, a search around a final turn in the meandering River of Life. And, now, thanks to the miraculous waters of that strange pyramid, and the aid of his cousin, here he was, returned to an England in the bloom of Spring, as young as he ever was at his best, his eyes keen as ever, his hearing sharp as a nettle sting.  
  
"If only the river could be young again" he said to himself as he picked up his battered old bag and made his way along the bank of the ailing waterway.  
  
Memories sad and joyful flooded back to the Rat as he strolled along the broken cobbles of the riverside path: his sturdy boat and the summer regattas, the flags and the cheering, the music and the prizes. Lazy afternoons just messing about on the still water, warm evenings with a glass of gooseberry wine or frothy hot chocolate to ward off the approaching night-time chill. And picnics - such picnics ! Trips down the river and hampers loaded with pies, and cucumber sandwiches and vintage port to share with Moley. "Old Moley." The Rat sighed. "My dear old friend, Mole."  
  
The Rat had reached that place in the river where an oxbow lake had formed many centuries earlier, and, there in the middle, surrounded now by muddy marsh rather than gleaming water, was the island, overgrown and unkempt. Somewhere in there, amongst thick bracken and rose bushes, hidden beneath weeds and nettles, ferns and fallen oak branches lay the grave of his dear old friend The Mole. Again the Water Rat sighed, and then determined to pay his beloved, departed friend a last visit.  
  
* * * * *  
  
In places the marsh was treacherous and the rat had to use much of his recently found youthful strength to leap from one patch of firm turf to another. How much easier it would have been to swim across in cool, clean water, but all there was was thick, sinking mud and dried up reeds. After an hour of careful jumps and laboured steps the Rat found himself on the east bank of the island, and made his way up the beach.  
  
It was as if instinct told him exactly where to go. It was as if Nature herself opened a way for him, and it wasn't long before Ratty stood in front of a headstone, partly covered in moss and weeds, a stone which bore the message:  
  
"Here lies The Mole, once resident of Mole End, passed on peacefully after a long and fulsome life, a friend to one and all."  
  
The Rat cleared away the remaining foliage and neatened up the grave as a mark of respect to his dearest and oldest friend. He felt tired. So very tired and sat heavily upon the soft mossy turf.  
  
"Oh, Moley. Dear, dear chap. How I wish you were here now !"  
  
Ratty opened his bag and took out an apple. He hadn't eaten a thing since his arrival that morning and should have been famished. Yet after a single bite of what should have been a delicious red cruncher, he realised he simply didn't have the stomach for it. He took out his map and the sliver flask containing the powerful liquid - the elixir which had brought him a second youth - a new lease of life.  
  
"But what use is that if there's nothing left ! Nothing and no one left at all !"  
  
Ratty picked up the flask. As he turned it in his paws the silver and rubies which encrusted the rim glistened in the sunshine, he began to feel that perhaps this magic key to life was no boon at all but a terrible bane. Without friends or home, the Rat felt utterly lost, and he simply didn't feel he had the will or the energy to start all over again. Once again, he looked at the shining bottle.  
"What use are you now that there's no one left ?"  
  
He unstoppered the cork angrily and began to pour the precious water of life away.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
Drip, Drip, Drip. The water flowed into the earth. It tricked slowly into the dry earth and within moments a few drops and made contact with cloth. Drip, drip, drip. A droplet fell upon fir that was cold and still as stone. And as the Rat, cursing his fate and the unfairness of life, had reached the point where half of the substance had been poured away, he halted, as he heard first a shudder, and then a shiver. Then a rumble, and then another. The ground around the grave began to tremble, forcing the Water Rat to his furry feet in a startled jump.  
  
And suddenly, it was as if the grave itself exploded into a cloud of dust and flying clumps of mud and grass as a spluttering and sneezing snout appeared to be followed by a pair of screwed up eyes, squinting in the sunlight, two small hands neatly folded across a pin-stripe waistcoat and an indignant cry of: "Eh ? What ? I do beg your pardon ! Cough ! Splutter !"  
  
And there sat Mole!  
  
* * * * * *  
  
"I say !" exclaimed the rat. "Goodness gracious me ! Crikey !"  
"Who's there ?" asked the Mole. "I'm sorry I can't see very well in this light. Good heavens ! Where am I ? This must be Mole heaven ! It IS heaven isn't it ? I don't suppose you could switch that light out could you ?"  
For a few moments, the normally self-composed Water rat was all unmade. Speechless. As recognition slowly began to dawn, and the shock of what had just occurred began to subside, he almost whispered: "Mole ? Is that really you, Mole ?"  
The Mole began to brush earth clods and grass from his face and his suit. "Ratty ? Oh, Ratty ! So you made it to heaven as well ! I always knew you would ! I wish I could find my blessed spectacles !"  
The rat was beginning to recover. "In your top pocket old chap."  
"What ? oh, yes ! Thank you Ratty" He replied, reaching into his top left pocket, pulling out his tiny pair of glasses, and balancing them upon his nose. He squinted, and then gazed in the direction of the Water Rat.  
"Ratty ?" he inquired. "Ratty ?" The Mole leapt up and ran to his friend. "It is you ! It is! Oh my dear old Ratty !"  
"Hello, Mole ! Welcome back, dear old Moley !"  
They embraced and embraced again. Hands were shaken, backs were slapped, they sang and they laughed, and at least six times they danced around the gravestone before the rat raised his left boot and kicked it over 'til it lay flat and still amongst the weeds and trampled grass.  
  
* * * * *  
  
For almost an hour they just sat an stared at each other in disbelief; the Mole still attired in his Sunday best suit which he had directed in his last will and testament he should be buried in; the water rat in his muddied safari suit and leather wide-brimmed hat battered by the heat of a desert sun, by wind and by sea-storm. Then the words seemed to tumble from both of them - question upon question from the Mole and story upon story from the Rat until he told the Mole the whole story of his adventure in Egypt, of his encounter with his cousin in the mysterious pyramid and of his miraculous rejuvenation from the waters of the hidden fountain of youth.  
"But what brought you home ?" asked the Mole.  
"I don't really know." replied the Rat. "I'd had enough of travelling, of living out of a battered old suitcase, living from hand to mouth, never knowing where the next meal was coming from. I suppose there was nowhere else to go BUT home. But when I got here, I thought - I can't just start all over again - not all alone. And then I thought of you and dear old Badger and Toad..."  
"Toad!" said the Mole, "Incorrigible Toad! How I miss him !"  
"And with the River all dried up, and all of our friends living in those dreadful houses in Lathbury field, it seems that this miracle may be more of a curse than a benefit."  
But the Mole was already muttering to himself: "But we can ! We can ! By joke, we can, we can, we CAN!"  
"Can WHAT, Moley ?"  
"Badger and Toad !" he replied. "Badger and Toad !"  
"What do you mean, Moley ?"  
"We CAN start again ! But we must find Badger and Toad !"  
The Rat frowned "but they're... by Jove, Moley ! You're right ! Badger and dear Toady !"  
"How much of that incredible liquid do you have left, Ratty.?"  
The Rat picked up the silver flask. "About half of it, I think. I was going to pour it all away. Luckily, you put a stop to that !"  
The Mole frowned, snuffling with his snout in the air, as he always did when thinking over a difficult problem. "Ratty, do you think there's enough in that bottle of yours for an oversized Badger and a Toad who never does as he's told ?"  
The Rat laughed. "Enough ! Oh yes, Moley ! There's more than enough !"  
The Mole grinned a mischievous grin. "So what are we waiting for? Don't you think it's been an awfully long time since we paid a visit to Lathbury Church ?"  
"Rather too long, my fine fellow! " laughed the Rat.  
And, as the late afternoon sun, turning from ruddy gold to crimson began to sink over Lathbury Hill, casting dancing shadows amongst the Willows, the Mole and the Rat, joyfully reunited, stood up, dusted themselves down, and, arm in arm, whistling as they went, set off on the trail of their two dearest friends - the Badger and, of course, the Toad.  
  
* * * * *  
  
By the time they had reached Lathbury Churchyard, the Mole had begun to become used to the fact of not only being alive, but being young again and, not only to being young again, but also being reunited with his closest and dearest friend in the world. The sun had almost set and most of the available light now came from a full moon and a crystal clear sky filled with stars. They crept into the graveyard, careful not to make any noise which would awaken the verger or any nosy rabbits who might be sleeping close by.  
  
The Mole wasn't much use in locating the correct gravestone. Even in full daylight and even with the aid of his spectacles his eyesight wasn't strong enough to read the lettering carved expertly into the stone. So it was the Rat who began the search, reading each headstone in turn looking first for signs of the resting place of their mutual friend, the Badger. The first stone was by the lychgate to the church. squinting in the fading light, the Rat read:  
"'Here lie the remains of Mr Kenneth Grahame, a writer who, though he may be gone, his characters will always live on.' Fascinating!" remarked the Rat.  
The next headstone seemed relatively new, not more than a few years:  
"'Here lies William Horwood. A sad fellow who died alone. Now he rests with many for company.' Tragic" said the Rat.  
After another twenty minutes and thirty or so graves, the Rat exclaimed: "Bingo !"  
"Shh!" whispered the Mole as loudly as he could without making a noise.  
"Sorry Moley, but we've found him." He read the letters, so beautifully engraved in capitals:  
"He lies The Badger who lived a long and noble life. A friend and a helper to all, a hero to many and the true keeper of the Wild Wood."  
Slowly and carefully the Rat prized the stopper from the small silver flask and tipped a few drops into the earth at the very centre of the grave.  
They waited. And they waited. It seemed as if they waited for an age.  
"Nothings happening, Ratty ! Oh, dear, oh..."  
"Wait!" commanded the Rat.  
  
The water trickled slowly and gently into the dark earth and a single drop, as if seeking out its target, dripped through a crack in the wood of the coffin. A single drop. Yet that was enough.  
  
First they heard a cough. Then another. Then a shuffle. Then the Mole and the Rat fell backwards as the sound of crashing and splintering timber pierced the cold night air and a youthful paw punched its way vertically upwards through earth and turf, to be followed by a powerful second blow from a second paw - then the Badger, mighty Badger sat up, causing an avalanche of soil and flowers to fall about him, shook himself off and exclaimed: "A devilish chilly night to be awaking a fellow, I must say !"  
And the Mole fainted there on the spot.  
  
* * * * *  
  
It took the Badger only a few minutes to recover his normal, dignified self-composure, though even he was more than a little surprised at finding himself alive and shivering naked in the middle of the night. The Rat pulled out an old bed sheet from his travelling bag and Badger wrapped himself in it as best he could, then they set about reviving the poor Mole from his shocked faint. For almost ten minutes the poor creature simply muttered to himself: "Badger... Badger ... Badgers in the night .. Badgers in the night ... Badger ... Badger...", while the Rat told Badger the story of how they came to be reunited in a graveyard in the dark of night. He pulled out the silver flask and showed it to his old friend.  
"So you see, I decided it ought to be as we had agreed all those years ago ... one for all and all that sort of thing."  
The Badger frowned. "Never believed in magic or any of that sort of nonsense," he grumbled, "Must be some kind of scientific explanation. Still, never mind. Good to see you again, Ratty."  
"Oh, you too Badger, you too ! Now, come on, Moley, there's a good fellow, wake up, there's a good chap!"  
The Mole stirred. "Badgers in the Night ! Badgers in the.... eh ? What ? Oh, good morning Ratty ! Must have dozed off."  
"You fainted, old friend. Must have been the shock."  
"Did I really" enquired the Mole, repositioning his spectacles on the end of his nose. "Sorry about that."  
"Nothing to be sorry for, Mole" said the Badger. "Nearly fainted myself!"  
"Now come on," said the Rat, "Let's find dear old Toady !"  
  
Finding the Toad was hardly a problem at all. There in the very centre of the churchyard was the largest tomb of all, in al its garish finery attempting in to outdo in everyone in extravagance what it clearly lacked in taste. A huge marble box was crowned by a full-sized white marble statue of Toad himself, standing straight with one finger pointing enigmatically up towards the sky. He wore an aeroplane pilot's hat, a pair of motor car driver's goggles, both carved in exquisite detail in marble as well. In his mouth the stone Toad held a train guard's whistle and in the left hand there were three washer woman's clothes pegs, also carved from white marble.  
"Dreadful" remarked the Badger.  
"Shocking" exclaimed the Rat.  
"Well I think it's wonderful!" retorted the Mole, who really couldn't see much at all in the night-time dark.  
"Well, not a moment to lose" said the Rat, "Let's get to work."  
  
There was just a small quantity of the wonderful liquid left and it took all of Badger's strength to remove the lid of the marble tomb-box to reveal a white shroud in which their mutual friend lay. The Rat unstoppered the lid one final time. "Here goes!"  
  
The effect was almost instantaneous. First a small cough, then a bigger one and then: "And I took on all six of the blighters with my bear hands.... eh ? What ? Oerrr !"  
  
And the Toad leapt into the air, screaming. With each leap he leapt higher and screamed louder. Then he leapt out of the tomb altogether landing on the marble lid only to land face to face with his own statue, recognised himself, and screamed with surprise and absolute fear, then leapt off the tombstone landing on the grass and leapt and leapt and leapt, screaming all the while, all over the churchyard. Occasionally the screams would stop and he would giggle or gurgle like a child.  
  
"He's gone mad !" cried the Mole, "Poor Toad!"  
"He's out of his mind!" called Ratty.  
"No, no no." said the Badger wearily. "It's panic. Simply panic. Runs in the family I'm afraid. The Toad's always were a family to over-react. We'll have to calm him down. Come on"  
  
By now lights were coming on in the vicarage, as well as several nearby houses, as the Toad panicked his noisy way around the churchyard chased by a Mole in his muddy Sunday Best , a Water Rat in a tatty Safari Suit and a Badger wrapped in a bed sheet.  
  
"Quick" shouted the Rat, "He's heading for the pond."  
"Head him off at the gate" ordered the Badger, who picked up a large bag of garden refuse and emptied onto the lawn. Soon they had the gibbering Toad cornered by the gate and Badger expertly plucked him up, shoved him, giggling and spluttering into the bag, which he threw over his shoulder. "That's and end of HIS performance for this evening.  
  
Then they were off. As the vicar and his verger entered the graveyard carrying lamps and a large candlestick, the three friends and their newly acquired bundle of Toad, were through the gate and heading in the direction of the Wild Wood. And for many a year to come there were stories and spooky tales of walking ghosts, of phantom Moles and terrifying Toad's to be seen at night in Lathbury Churchyard.  
  
* * * * *  
  
It took almost an hour to calm Toad down to anything like a state where he could be talked to or could listen for more than a few seconds without giggling or attempting to scream. But with patience, Ratty managed to explain the new state of affairs to his old friend, to tell him the story of how they were all magically re-united until Toad breathed a deep sigh and said:  
"Well, chaps ! I think it's absolutely splendid ! Splendid I tell you ! And it is rather top-hole to be my old, good-looking and charming self again, don't you think ?"  
"Oh, yes" it's a treat to see you again, Toady, it really is!" said the Mole.  
  
Indeed it was true, the elixir in the silver flask had restored each of the four to an age at which they had reached their prime of life, a time at which they were at their very, very best.  
  
They sat amongst the fallen trees of the Wild Wood shivering in the night air, which had filled with a chill that threatened an early morning frost.  
"Well we can't stay out here all night that's for sure." said the Rat.  
  
But the Badger was already up and sniffing the night air with his great snout. "Should be around here somewhere. See if you can find a familiar landmark."  
"What ARE you doing Badger ?" asked the Toad.  
"Quiet." ordered Badger. "Ah, there we are, the Hermit's Oak. So they couldn't feel the old Hermit, eh ! Good." Badger began to pace about, muttering to himself. They others followed him, quite bemused.  
"What's he doing, Ratty ?" whispered the Mole.  
"Shh, Moley. Never disturb a Badger when he's onto something. He knows what he's doing."  
The Badger continued to pace about muttering to himself. "Ah yes, now twelve paces to the east, four to the north, and seven again to the north. Excellent. And here we are. Now, where's Mole. Mole !"  
The Mole stepped forward. "Here Badger."  
"Now, Mole. I want you to help me dig here, just here on this very spot. Have you got that !"  
"Rightho, Badger."  
And the two of the them began to dig. The Mole rolled up his sleeves and followed the Badger into the ground, clods and clumps of earth flying everywhere until the both of them had disappeared completely.  
"What on earth are they doing ?" asked Toad impatiently, "I must say it isn't cricket leaving a chap in the dark!"  
"Have patience, Toady," said the Rat. "We'll soon find out. I do so enjoy to watch a Badger or a Mole when they are digging. Such expertise ! Such ability !"  
A few minutes later the Mole poked his head out from the newly created tunnel and smiled.  
"Well ?" said the Toad, expectantly.  
"Oh Toady ! Oh Ratty ! It's Badger's secret chamber for emergencies. There's a room, and he's lighting a fire even as we speak, and there's a chest with clothes and candles, and tins of food, food of all kinds, and bottles of wine and elder flower champagne, and vintage cheese. Come on, there's no need to freeze up here ! Come on ! Hurry !"  
  
So they followed, warily at first, for a Water Rat doesn't much like tunnels which aren't close by a river, and a Toad likes them even less. But soon they were all seated around a small iron stove sipping from tin cups filled with steaming cocoa and tucking into sailors' biscuits with cheese and tinned ham.  
  
Much warmed from the fire, will stomachs full for (for the Mole, the Toad and the Badger) for the first time in years, they decided to hold a conference in order to decide what to do next.  
  
"Well" began the Water Rat, "Any ideas on where we should go. One thing is for sure, we can't stay here forever."  
"There's always the family in Lathbury." said the Mole.  
"Oh yes," said the Rat, "The family. Do you know, I'd completely forgotten about them."  
"And you've relatives not far from here, Toad." replied the Mole.  
"Yes, indeed I have. Relatives."  
They sat in silence, wondering what to do or say next, four old friends, who had found each other again, and yet who felt completely lost in the world.  
"We can't." said the Rat at last.  
"Can't what ?" asked Toad.  
"Relatives. For one thing, can you imagine the shock of seeing the four of us again after all this time, and all looking so many years younger ? Even if they did believe us, do really what all of that fuss ? There'd be newspaper reporters and sightseers, and the police would have to be involved. We'd never get a moment's peace ! And for another thing I have no wish to live in one of those horrible, tiny square houses in Lathbury. I'd rather be dead again !"  
"Oh Ratty, don't say that!" cried the Mole.  
"Well, it's true" the Rat continued "I will not spend my days in a street of cardboard boxes and tedious gardens !"  
The Badger sighed. He always sighed when he was thinking. A second sight usually meant he was about to say something important. So he sighed again.  
"Look around you, my friends. The Wild Wood is almost gone. It will be years before it truly lives again. The River is no more, just a trickle in the mud. Mole End's a museum piece, and Toad Hall knocked down and built over years ago. This land, my friend, has changed. The old ways have gone, at least from Lathbury, and what has replaced it is not to my taste, not to my taste at all. If we want to find what we seek in our hearts, then we'll have to seek for it in pastures new."  
They were silent. Even the Toad was speechless. For they all agreed. They would have to leave, and find a new home.  
  
Badger sighed two heavy sighs and poured himself another cup of cocoa before he spoke. "Toad, I do believe it is time I told you of your legacy."  
"I beg your pardon ?" asked Toad. "My legacy ?"  
Badger cleared his throat and spoke again. "Yes, Toad. It is something I neglected to do whilst you were...erm... alive, largely due to your consistently irresponsible, extravagant and irrational behaviour..."  
"I say, Badger, now wait a minute!"  
"Don't interrupt Toad !" growled Badger. "Your father entrusted me with this information and requested that I should only reveal to you the whereabouts of your legacy when you were in the greatest need and should do so under no other circumstances. Given your ridiculous crazes and your nonsensical desire for innumerable cars, wretched aeroplanes and motorbikes, I felt it necessary to withhold that information from you, according to your father's strict wishes. But now that you.. that we... have been given a new life ... I feel that the time has come when it is right for you to inherit your legacy.  
"My legacy ! MY legacy ! Oh goody!"  
Again the Badger sighed.  
"Well ?" ventured the Toad.  
"Well what Toad ?" replied an impatient Badger.  
"What IS this legacy of mine ?"  
"I don't know."  
"What ? You DON'T KNOW ?"  
"That is correct. I know where it is. But I do not know WHAT it is. Your father entrusted me only with information concerning its location, not its nature. But I have a feeling that it could be of great help to us in our current predicament. We have decided to be anonymous in this place, we have no money nor any other means of living. I think it may be worth a look at this legacy."  
"Where is it ? Where is it ?" Toad began jumping about. "I want it ! I want it NOW !"  
"In the morning." said the Badger.  
"But I want my legacy NOW ! It's not fair. Not fair at al to keep a chap from his birthright. Not fair at all !"  
"Toad, be quiet" commanded the Badger. "It is well past midnight, it is biting cold outside and I am not prepared to allow any of us to go venturing out in the dark. Your legacy can wait until morning!"  
And as if to echo the Badger's sentiments an the hoot of an howl echoed along the recently dug tunnel sending a shiver up the spine of the excited Toad, who was really in no mood to face the perils of the night alone.  
"Very, well, Badger. In the morning it is then." the Toad said, rather sheepishly.  
"Right then," said the Rat, "everyone take a blanket and a pillow and let's all get some sleep. How wonderful it is to all be together again ! Good night all !"  
"Hear, hear to that !" said the Mole.  
And the old friends bade each other good night and settled down to a deep and peaceful sleep.  
  
* * * * *  
  
In the morning , after a breakfast of steamed tinned treacle pudding and the remains of the cocoa (though the Toad refused to eat even a mouthful so excited he was), Badger revealed the whereabouts of Toad's legacy:  
  
"According to your father, a legacy for his son, young Toad, which should only be revealed to him at a time of great need, is buried some four and a half feet below they summit of Lathbury Hill. There is no further information to impart."  
"Right you chaps !" the Toad almost screamed. There isn't a moment to lose. Lathbury Hill is my destiny and my destiny can wait no longer!" And he was off up the tunnel, his companions in hot pursuit.  
"Wait!" shouted the Rat.  
"Slow down a bit Toady" begged the Mole.  
And the Badger sighed and mumbled to himself: "Here we go again. Tut tut tut.  
  
About a half an hour later they stood together at the foot of Lathbury Hill dismayed at the sight which greeted them.  
  
They had climbed a tall grass bank at the south end of a large corn field only to find that a large three-laned motorway separated them from their goal, the foot of Lathbury Hill. Cars and lorries tore past at breakneck speed puffing out smoke and the smell of petrol was almost unbearable.  
"Oh dear, we'll never get across THAT!" complained the Rat.  
"My legacy ! My legacy!" wailed the Toad.  
"Just a minute." said the Mole. "I've got an idea. Leave it to me!" And with that, he crawled halfway down the grassy bank, rolled up his sleeves, hitch up his trouser legs and began to dig. Within seconds, he had disappeared into the bank and all that could be seen were tiny effusions of earth and dust flying everywhere.  
  
The very bank itself seemed to tremble as the Mole dug deeper.  
"He's going to make a tunnel under the road. Clever Moley !" said the Rat.  
A few minutes later they heard a bump and then a muffled: "Ouch!"  
There was a pause and then: "Ouch !" again.  
A few more seconds passed and then: "Ouch ! Oh Bother !"  
After several more minutes the Mole, his snout covered in chalk emerged and he shared his disappointment with the others: "It's no use. I can get as far as the road but then there's a solid wall of concrete. It goes down as far as I can dig. There's no way under I'm afraid.  
"Ah well, good try Mole" the Rat consoled him as he helped his friend up the bank to join them.  
They all sat down, rather dejected with Toad moaning away to himself: "My legacy. Mr poor, poor legacy."  
Suddenly he brightened, sat up straight, smiled, and the positively beamed: "Ah ha! I've got it !"  
"What is it Toad ?" asked the Rat.  
Toad looked very proud of himself: "If we can't go under, and we can't go along, we'll have to jolly well go over !"  
"Over ?" asked the Badger, "What on earth do you mean, Toad ?"  
"Not ON earth !" grinned the Toad. "Not ON ! Over ! Toad - the genius - Toad the Marvellous - Toad the champion in the long jump, the high jump AND the triple jump for five straight years at boarding school will have to jump over to Lathbury Hill!"  
"Impossible" remarked the Badger. "Can't be done. You're out of your mind.  
But Toad had already leapt to the bottom of the bank and was preparing for a long run-up. "Nonsense, Badger ! My legacy awaits and nothing, I tell you, no rotten motorway is going to stand between me and what is rightfully mine !"  
"He's mad !" shouted the Badger. "We must stop him !"  
"Toad !" called the Rat. "Toad !"  
But it was too late. The Toad had started his run up, rushed to the top of the bank, bent his long green legs, and with one almighty push had leapt the wooden fence and was sailing over the first lane of the motorway. He reached the height of his jump over the second lane and was descending over the third.  
"He's going to do it !" sang the Mole, "He's really going to do it!"  
"Geronimo" shouted the Toad.  
And he would have made it too. With a yard to spare. But at that very moment t large taxi tore past in the inside lane, it's window open and the Toad was no longer flying through the cool, fresh air of morning but was sailing through the inside of a black taxicab from London and landed with a small thud on the driver's lap.  
  
It was all the driver could do to keep his vehicle under control. "Whoops!" said the Toad as he landed, and he turned to the taxi driver with an apologetic look on his face, recovered his composure and said: "Good, morning to you sir, sorry to drop in on you like this. My name is Mr Toad!"  
The taxi driver was almost speechless but managed to blurt out: "Er...hello...my name is Cyril, er..pleased to meet you Mr Toad."  
To which the Toad replied: "Sorry, no time to chat. Must fly !" And with those words, he leapt out of the driver's window, sailed across the remainder of the motorway, legs and arms flailing about him, and landed in the soft grass at the foot of the far side of Lathbury Hill, leaving a started taxi driver wondering whether his wife would believe a word he said of what had just occurred when he got home.  
  
A few leaps and jumps later and the Toad stood proudly at the summit of Lathbury Hill and waved gleefully to his worried and startled friends down below: "Hello there chaps ! Sorry about that! Decided to take a taxi at the last minute !"  
  
It took the Toad over an hour to dig on the hilltop. He was a creature not built for digging though he managed pretty well, driven as he was by curiosity and an uncontrollable desire to claim his legacy. And suddenly, there it was ! He leapt three feet into the air and called to his friends ! "I've got it ! By heavens, I found it !"  
  
By that time the motorway was a lot quieter as the majority of England tucked into their midday meals, or snored in their armchairs. A few careful and laboured leaps and the Toad had rejoined his friends. An hour later, they had repaired to the Badger's underground room and surveyed Toad's mysterious find.  
  
* * * * *  
  
It was a box, an old cast iron box, battered and rusty, it must have been very old, very old indeed. A coat of arms on each bolt confirmed it as belonging to the Toad family, a box which must have been used for such purposes as this from generation to generation for hundreds and hundreds of years.  
  
"Well, Toad," said the Badger, "don't keep us all waiting - open the blessed thing."  
"The bolts had rusted tight and it took the combined strength of the four of them to finally prize the lid open, with Badger and Toad clasping the lid and Mole and Ratty clinging to the box, they pulled in opposite directions, heaved and strained until at last ... it gave ! and they all ended up in a heap upon the floor, the contents of the box spilling in all directions over the floor.  
  
Coins, at least a hundred gold coins lay everywhere, a sum which left even the Toad speechless.  
"Why, there must be more than a thousand pounds here." exclaimed the Rat.  
They collected all of the coins together, arranged in several piles, and stared at each other in wonder.  
"Wait a minute," said the Badger, "There's something else."  
In all of the excitement surrounding the cascade of golden coins, they had failed to notice a small piece of paper which had also fallen out with the haul. Toad picked it up, unfolded it then frowned. "It doesn't make any sense. Written in some foreign language. Can't make head nor tail of it."  
Badger held out his paw: "Give it here. Let me have a look at it."  
Toad handed him the piece of paper and returned his attention to his newly gained riches whilst Badger attempted to decipher the writing on the paper.  
"It's written in Welsh. Fortunately, I know Welsh. Learned from my great Uncle Glandyth."  
"What does it say, Badger" enquired the Mole.  
"These are the deeds to a house." At this, even the Toad, looked up from his monetary counting.  
"A house ? A house for me ?"  
The Badger cleared his throat and began to read, translating from the Welsh as he went: "'Below is are deeds to the main house, adjoining buildings and land and that stretch of the river marked on the map below which collectively is named Willow Valley in the county of Camarthenshire, Wales. These deeds are in the name of Mr Toad, bearing the seal of his family name, and are his to claim on presentation of this document, signed so and so, dated so and so.' well, Toad it seems you are owner or no insignificant property land and river-way in Wales."  
The Toad breathed a satisfied sigh. "Capital ! Wonderful ! Marvellous ! Yippee ! Oh, Badger, Oh Moley, Oh Ratty ! This solves all of our problems ! We shall go to Wales in the morning!  
  
And the celebrations lasted into the night. Badger opened more than one bottle of elder flower champagne and more than a flagon of mead and they sang and drank into the night.  
  
When the fire embers were dying and final glasses were emptied they held their second conference since being brought back together. The Rat was in favour of travelling by River, by boat, at a leisurely pace along the River Severn. He said that he knew a route.  
"We can take our time and enjoy all the sights of the River along the way."  
Toad was impatient with this idea and was all for buying a fast motorcar: "Or, better still, "he remarked, "we could al buy a motorbike each and be there by tomorrow evening !"  
But the Mole refused outright to travel either by motorbike or in one of those horrible vehicles he had seen on that terrible and filthy motorway. "You will not, I repeat, will not get me in one of those dreadful contraptions."  
Badger, on the other hand was in favour of taking the train: "Only way to travel, civilised, smooth journey and time to read the newspaper!"  
Yet all of these suggestions had the drawback of drawing attention to the four friends who would have preferred to leave as quietly and anonymously as possible.  
Much discussion ensued though the Toad became strangely subdued and took less and less part in the conversation, until ratty enquired: "Are you alright, Toad ? You seem unusually quiet."  
Toad smiled a secretive smile. "Oh, I'm alright, Ratty. Suppose I'm a bit tired really. Been a long day and all that. Think I'll turn in for the night. I'll be you chaps good night !"  
"Good night, Toady !" said the Mole.  
And the Toad retired to bed, leaving his friends in heated debate into the early hours of the morning.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Ratty was the first to wake and the first to notice that Toad had gone. Badger then sat up and added: "He's taken the box, money and all!"  
"You don't think he's deserted us do you ?" asked a trembling Mole.  
"Deserted us ?" replied the Badger, "Certainly not. It'll be much worse than deserting us. He must be up to something. He had a shifty look on his face last night. Oh he hasn't deserted us. He must have planned something which unfortunately includes ALL of us!"  
  
And, as if to confirm the Badger's ominous prediction, the echoing sound of Toad's singing voice came ringing along the tunnel:  
  
"You can drop some bags of sand you can  
To lighten up the load  
But no one can climb as high as high  
Than flying Mr Toad  
He ! He ! Ha Ha !"  
  
As the Rat, the Mole and the Badger emerged into the warm sunshine of morning, the Mole was nearly laid low as a huge bag of sand landed with a loud thump within inches of his nose. From high, high above they heard: "Whoops ! Sorry Moley, Ha Ha !"  
  
"He's gone mad!" exclaimed the Rat.  
"Not gone mad" replied the Badger, "He's always BEEN mad."  
By now they could make out the shape of a huge balloon high above the trees, an occasional flame bursting forth between leaves and branches as Toad, who was jumping about in a basket attached below waved at them from above. "This is the only way to fly. The only way for a Toad to fly !"  
  
It was then that they heard the policeman's whistle and saw the crowd of people burst through the trees. "Stop that balloon!" shouted the policeman, "He's flying without a licence ! Stop that balloon!"  
There was nothing for it but to chase the flying Toad and to try to keep up with him. The Badger in the front, with the Water Rat and the Mole a few paces behind and then the crowd intent on catching them all. "Stop that balloon!"  
  
Suddenly a long rope dropped down in front of Badger and Toad called out: "Come on chaps, can't wait all day ! Climb aboard !"  
"Outrageous behaviour!" complained the Badger but, nevertheless, he leapt for the rope, took hold of it in his paws, and, within an instant, was already six feet in the air.  
"Come on Moley, don't be afraid" said the Rat. "Jump onto my back. I'll see you safe.!"  
The Mole did as he was bid though he refused to open his eyes. He climbed onto his friend's back and together they made a grab for the rapidly rising rope, caught it after three attempts and were soon rising high into the air, just as the crowd, led by the policeman, were almost upon them. Higher and higher they rose. Slowly, and with much effort they climbed the rope and were soon safely inside the basket where Toad was already receiving a serious dressing down from Badger.  
"Toad ! You nearly had us all killed. This is utter tomfoolery ! Totally unacceptable behaviour !"  
Toad was unrepentant: "I'm sorry Badger, but for once I have no regrets. We are completely safe and there's a strong westerly wind. We shall be across the border and into Wales in no time ! And there's no better way to travel than in a hot air balloon!"  
And, with that, he pulled on a string releasing flames of hot air into the large air bag, and the balloon lurched upwards sending Badger tumbling to the floor of the basket !  
"Toot, toot !"  
  
* * * * *  
  
For a day and a half the balloon took them across fields and hills, across rivers and moors. They passed over villages and towns. Sometimes people waved and always the Toad waved back. Badger took care of navigation though there was little they could do but ride the West wind and hope wit would take them eventually to Willow Valley, and secretly Badger prayed there would be no change of wind to carry them off course. Ratty took care of the picnic basket that Toad had purchased along with the balloon and ensured that no one went hungry, even the Mole who sat, terrified, refusing to get up and spent most of the journey clutching a blanket, his head buried inside his jacket flap.  
  
Badger gave Toad more than a single ticking off for his rogue behaviour, so unfitting for a Toad who was about to inherit lands and property, but Toad was having far too much fun to really take much notice, though he nodded in the right places, looked suitable chastened as necessary and made all kinds of promises of good behaviour which he had not the slightest intention of keeping.  
  
So they settled down to sleep, drifting westwards in a hot air balloon, under a clear sky and high up, so high where the air is a pure as it can be and thoughts and dreams are sharp and alive as the wind.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Watch out ! Wake up ! Land below !" It was the Rat who first notice the balloon's rapid decent over green hills which loomed ominously closer by the minute. "We're losing height."  
"Throw out a sandbag !" called Badger  
"All gone ! There aren't any left!" complained Toad  
"Oh, dear, oh, dear, oh dear" moaned a trembling Mole.  
The picnic hamper was soon followed by blankets and coats but it was no use. there simply wasn't enough hot air to keep the balloon aloft. The fuel in the burner was spent and the four friends prepared themselves for a crash landing. Soon the balloon was spinning through tree branches and a large oak loomed up and tore into the air bag, piercing, a loud hissing noise escaping from the balloon's remains as the basket plunged earthwards, just missing the thatched roof of a cottage by inches.  
Crash ! And they were down !  
Battered and bruised, the Toad was the first to climb out of the basket, rubbing a sore head, followed by a relatively unscathed Badger and a dazed Rat. The Mole simply refused to come out at all until he was absolutely sure they were safely on terra firma.  
  
"Oh, goodness me ! oh deary, deary me ! My roses ! my poor roses. Ruined they are. Totally ruined !"  
They stood in a garden facing a beautiful cottage. And there in front of the door stood a large rabbit, and she looked very worried. Very worried indeed.  
Toad, never a great one for tact, greeted her amiably: "Good morning, madam. Sorry to drop in on you like this. A bit unannounced you might say ! Ha, Ha !"  
"Oh my dear ! My garden ! You've ruined my garden !"  
"You couldn't perhaps tell us whether we are in the vicinity of Willow Valley could you ?" enquired the Toad, oblivious to the poor woman's distress.  
She was taken aback by this direct approach. "Willow Valley. Why yes, you're IN Willow Valley. This is Willow Valley!"  
"Splendid ! Capital ! Did you hear that chaps. As I told you. There's no better way to travel than by hot air balloon.  
At which the poor rabbit burst into tears.  
"What did I say ?" asked the Toad innocently.  
  
They managed to calm the old woman down with promises of reparations and a few coins for the damage. Her name was Nerys Rabbit and they discovered she was famed in the county for her bath buns and damson wine. Soon they stood, stomachs full at her front door asking her for directions to Willow Hall.  
"Willow Hall ? Why Willow Hall's been deserted for years ! No one has lived there since old Mr Toad departed for England all those years ago.!"  
"Well Madam, let me introduce myself ! I am YOUNG Mr Toad, son of the aforementioned Older one, and I hold in my possession the deeds to Willow Hall and intend, in no uncertain terms, to be its new resident !"  
"Well I never !" said the Welsh Rabbit, "A young Toad ! A new resident at Willow Hall ! I must tell my sister !" And, in an instant, she was dashing along the lane in search of her sister. It would not be long before the entire valley heard the news.  
  
The four friends made their way along the lane which passed closed to a river, one of the most beautiful rivers the Water Rat had ever seen. It had golden sandy banks, it meandered like a lullaby and at least a hundred ancient willow trees bent over on each side and cast dancing shadows on its slowly gliding tide. On the far side of the river, lay a forest, deep and dark with ancient oaks and elms which seemed to call forth the Badger to explore and to dig. Similarly the Mole felt drawn to the shadier places, the narrow banks of earth and turf where moss grew aplenty and where he could tunnel amongst roots and rocky alcoves.  
  
"Somehow I feel we have arrived somewhere !" said the Rat.  
"Willow Valley ! said the Mole, "What a wonderful name !"  
"Now that's what I call a REAL wood" remarked the Badger, "Perhaps not up to the Wild Wood as it used to be, but it has got potential !"  
  
And then they came to Willow Hall. The Toad was the first to gasp. Yet they were all amazed. The Mole was the first to speak. At the end of a tree-lined avenue, all overgrown yet still retaining an echo of previous splendour was Willow Hall.  
"But it's Toad Hall ! Look ! It's Toad Hall !"  
"Toad Hall" The Toad was in tears of joy, "My Toad Hall !"  
  
Indeed it was. There stood a building, stately and regal, a mansion house identical to the one the Toad had thought he should never see again. Toad Hall with its eighty seven bedrooms, its drawing rooms, its kitchens, its chimneys and its towers.  
  
Even the Badger laughed. "The old rascal ! So your father built a copy of the original Toad Hall in England. And here is the original!"  
  
Toad danced about and leapt towards his new home crying with happiness. He was home at last.  
  
"It'll need a lot of work." said the Rat.  
  
But work they all did. With the money from the legacy they restored Willow Hall to its former splendour and held an opening party the like of which had never been seen in the valley before. The Rat chose a quiet spot down by the River bank and there built a house, right on the water, where he tethered a small boat, in which he would often venture out on the river, his beloved river, to laze or simply, to mess about ! "There is nothing in the world that is quite so much fun as simply messing about in boats!"  
  
The Badger set off into the darkest parts of the Willow Wood and dug himself a home which went deep into the earth. He built tunnels that ran for miles and rooms which formed a maze that only the Badger himself could find his way about in. When Winter came he would sit in his armchair by a blazing fire, smoking a pipe or too, or sipping gooseberry wine, content and peaceful. And often his friends would come a visiting and they would talk over old times and look to the future with lazy interest.  
  
Toad set himself up in Willow Hall which he renamed Toad Hall, bought himself a car in which he would tear around the narrow lanes at dangerous speeds, ignoring the pleas of his friends and the weary warnings of his friend Badger. And it wouldn't be long before he would grow bored of cars, as he did once before, and look for more challenging (and perilous) ways to get about.  
  
And the Mole built a simple house close to the river, though not too close, which he named "Mole End" in memory of his first residence back in England. He would spend his days pottering about the kitchen or tinkering in the garden. And when winter came the smells of delicious baking would rise from the stove chimney- the odours of blueberry muffins or apple pie, of marshmallows toasting in the grate or hot teacakes emerging from the oven.  
  
And, to this day that is where they are now. Living a new life thanks to the adventurings into the east of a water rat, though not such a new life; indeed much like the one they left behind. They are happy as we should all be and, as I, Auberon Mole, close this account, I am sure that we shall hear from Mole, Ratty, from Badger and of course, from Toad of Toad Hall before too much time passes ! It won't be long before they go adventuring again.  
  
  
The End - To be continued...  
  
  
  
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End file.
